The Dreams We Left Behind
by HuntressMinerva
Summary: Rafe and Danny, and their early years in the United States Army Air Corps. Please R/R!
1. "Dear Mr. McCawley..."

**The Dreams We Left Behind**

Chapter One - "Dear Mr. McCawley..." 

_October 29 1937_

The Tennessee autumn was a thing of beauty, especially out in the countryside where Danny and Rafe lived. The fields were strewn with red-gold leaves, the scent of the wind lingered in the air, and the sky was the blue of a robin's egg. If they looked, they could sometimes spot flocks of migratory birds, heading out to warmer lands. But for these two boys - now men - home was Tennessee, and Tennessee was where they belonged. 

Danny had been idling about. Rafe had promised to take his younger siblings out to town, and had asked Danny along, but Danny had declined the invitation. He preferred to stay home alone on quiet, breezy days like this, sit in the field, and watch the leaves fall. It was approaching sunset. He had planned to watch the sky as it slowly shifted from blue, to shades of orange, red and pink. 

But his daydreaming was halted by a shout from the direction of Rafe's house. "Danny!" 

Danny knew that voice only too well. He had after all grown up with its owner. He smiled to himself. Without turning, he shouted back. "Rafe, I'm here at the field!" 

He waited. Before long, footsteps came up from behind him, and a man sat down next to him. He was tall, lean, and muscular. His ruggedly handsome face had already caught the attention of many young girls in their neighbourhood. 

Rafe's eyes were glowing with a joy Danny had only seen once before, when he had first flown by himself. But now the same spark had returned. So had an infectiously wide grin. There was something in his hand. 

Danny nodded towards it. "What's that?" 

Rafe didn't say a thing. He just smiled even wider and held up two envelopes, so that Danny could clearly see the insignia on them. 

The unmistakeable logo of the United States Army Air Corps winked at Danny through the waning light. 

"Oh God," Danny whispered. He breathed deeply. For a long time he had dreamed of this moment, when he would finally be informed of his application results. But they had taken such a long time to reply that Danny had practically given up hope. And now...here was Rafe, showing him two letters from the Army Air Corps, addressed to himself and Danny. It was too good to be true. He reached out quickly and took them from Rafe, as if afraid that they would disintegrate into dreams if he left them too long. 

Rafe looked excited. It was to be expected, after all. "Read mine first, Danny!" he said, with all the spirit of a restless child. 

Danny smiled. Even though he was dying to know his own results, he couldn't refuse Rafe when he was like this. "Okay, Rafe...hang on..." His fingers trembled slightly as he broke the seal on the envelope. Breathlessly, he took out a folded piece of paper from inside, and started reading out loud. 

"Dear Mr. McCawley, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as a cadet into the United States Army Air Corps. 

Please report on November 30 1937 for boardinghouse room allocation. Cadet training begins on December 5 1937. Enclosed please find a list of items you should bring. 

Once again, congratulations on your admission to the USAAC. We hope you find being in the Air Corps an enriching and enjoyable experience. 

Yours truly,  
Jake Hargrove  
Secretary  
Board of Directors  
United States Army Air Corps" 

Danny looked up. "Do you know what this means, Rafe?" 

Rafe smiled solemnly. "It means I got in." 

He jumped up suddenly, hugged Danny, and started running madly across the field, whooping for joy. "I got in! I'm gonna be a pilot!" he cried. 

"Atta boy, Rafe!" Danny shouted out. He looked down, smiling from the excitement. There was still one unopened envelope sitting in his lap - the one addressed to Mr. Daniel James Walker. He'd almost forgotten about it. 

This time he ripped the envelope open hastily. There was no time for getting keyed up again. He scanned it quickly. Then he let the letter drop from his hand as he jumped up to meet Rafe, who was running back to him. 

"Did you get in, Danny?" he asked, still glowing with happiness. 

Danny tried to keep calm, but he couldn't hold it in. "I got in, Rafe!" he cried. "I'm gonna be a pilot too!" 

All RIGHT!" Rafe shouted. He reached out for a high-five, and Danny returned it. "Land of the Free... 

"...Home of the Brave!" said Danny, his eyes twinkling. 

*** 

_November 25 1937_

They were leaving tomorrow. 

Rafe sat on his bed cross-legged, and rummaged around in his duffel bag one last time, murmuring to himself as he did so. "Shirts...check...pants...check...underwear...check...toothbrush..." 

He reached out and tossed it in. "Check..." 

He zipped up his bag and pushed it to one side so that he could stretch out on the bed. He stared at the ceiling. It was dotted with little painted pictures of planes. When he was young he had stolen some paint from his shed, climbed on some chairs, and painstakingly decorated his ceiling, which was fortunately quite low. When his father had found out he'd been mad at first, but later calmed down and just laughed at him. Now that Rafe was older, he could see the humour in it too. 

_We're leaving,_ he thought. _We're gonna be pilots. We're really going._

Dreams and aspirations filled his mind. Rafe was not one for "what ifs". All he could think about was how he and Danny would be together in the Army Air Corps...be the best at everything...top the class, make friends, and most importantly, get to fly all day long. 

The door opened, and a small blonde head peeked in. It was Rafe's younger sister, Ella. She was only ten years old. Rafe hated leaving his family, but flying was the most important thing in his life. He lived for it. The choice was clear, but it didn't make the parting any easier to take. 

He sighed. "Come in, Ellie." 

Ella came in, dressed in her nightgown, and sat on the floor. "Are you comin' back?" she asked tentatively. 

Rafe shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. But it'll be a long time. I'll write you, I promise." 

Ella's worried look disappeared momentarily, to be replaced with a look of disbelief. "You? Write?" 

Rafe laughed. "Okay, I'll get Danny to write. Whatever. You'll hear from me." 

"Are you scared?" 

"Me, your big brother, scared?" Rafe shook his head firmly. "No way." 

"What if you flunk out?" Ella asked bluntly. 

"No. As long as I've got Danny, nothing will happen to us. I'm not going there to read, Ellie, I'm going there to do my thing. And that's fly. I'm gonna go there and fly my heart out." 

Ella nodded in understanding. She got up to leave. "Good luck," she said softly. 

Rafe just smiled. 

*** 

Author's Note: First of all I must thank Jean Griffin for the idea to write about Rafe and Danny's early years in the Army Air Corps. It was a marvellous idea. Thank you! There will be more chapters to this, but I'm waiting for your responses. As always, many thanks for reading, and please review. Sorry for any inaccuracies - if there are, please report them! 


	2. Tennessee Boys

**The Dreams We Left Behind**

Chapter Two - Tennessee Boys 

_November 26 1937_

"All aboard!" came the booming voice of the train conductor. 

Rafe and Danny shot each other a look. "Well, Rafe, I guess this is it," said Danny. He picked up his bag. 

Rafe nodded. "This is it, Danny." 

Jeremy, Rafe's little brother, handed him his bag and smiled a small goodbye. His face was young and serious. "Rafe, you gotta come back for us, okay? You too, Danny?" 

Ella, next to him, nodded agreement. She reached out and gave Rafe a hug, then gave Danny one for good measure. "Bye," she whispered softly. 

Rafe looked over the heads of his siblings, at his parents. Even though he was merely twenty-one, he was already taller than both of them. His father was smiling proudly, and his mother was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Take care, Rafe," she murmured through her tears. 

Rafe leaned over and kissed her. He hugged his father. "Bye, Daddy. Bye Mom." 

Mrs. McCawley motioned to Danny to come over, and she gave him a goodbye hug as well.. "Rafe, you take care of Danny, alright?" 

Rafe laughed. "Don't worry, Mom, I've been doin' that since he was born." 

Danny punched him, laughing too. 

"All aboard!" 

"Rafe, we gotta go," Danny nudged him. 

Rafe nodded. He grabbed his bag and took one last look at his family before he and Danny stepped together onto the train. It would be a long time before he would see them again. 

*** 

_November 28 1937 New Jersey_

"This is Hayden Field?" 

Rafe and Danny stared at the sprawling grounds before them, mouths slightly open in shock and awe. There were hangars upon hangars, and planes upon planes...more than either of them had ever seen in one place. The happy, friendly cries of young pilots like themselves filled the air. Danny smiled to himself. He had been here only a few seconds, and already he felt as if he belonged. 

"Yo! New boys, are ya?" 

Danny turned. A cocky-looking pilot, about their age, was making his way towards them. 

"I'm Anthony. Anthony Velucci," said the stranger, sticking out his hand. 

"I'm Danny Walker," said Danny, shaking Anthony's hand. "And this is my best friend — " 

"— Rafe McCawley." Rafe supplied, also taking Anthony's hand. "Good to meet ya." 

"Tennessee, right?" said Anthony. "You got one strong Southern accent." Rafe smiled assent. 

"I'm from Brooklyn. But I'm Italian, actually," he continued. "Brooklyn's close by. Been down here some days already. You oughta see Captain Connor, he's the guy in charge of new boys like us. Just go straight until you see the big fancy building." 

Danny squinted into the sunlight. Anthony's directions were vague, but he could well see what he meant by the "big fancy building". He could make out its silhouette, outlined against the sky. It was indeed somewhat opulent. "And we thought we were early," he murmured, glancing back at Anthony. 

Anthony laughed. "Guys like us who volunteer to fly are all one breed. We can't wait to get into the cockpit." 

Rafe picked up his bag, and he nodded at Anthony. "Thanks, man." 

"See ya around," Danny added. 

Anthony nodded, and waved as they left. 

*** 

"Another pair of early birds." 

Captain Connor was an experienced and tough officer who had long learnt that rookie pilots with a thirst for flying were not to be trifled with. As one of his buddies had once said, "Don't _ever_ get between them and their wings." 

These two young bucks from Tennessee who now stood before him looked exactly like the kind his friend had had in mind. He looked them up and down, pacing about his office as he did so. The taller one, McCawley, showed no sign of being scared. There was something steady and confident about his countenance. The shorter one, Walker, seemed equally sure of himself. Captain Connor could see however that Danny Walker was apt to be more levelheaded than his friend. Already he could see Rafe McCawley's eyes darting surreptitiously towards the airplanes outside that decorated Hayden Field. 

Danny held back, so Rafe took the lead. "Yes, sir," he said. "We, uh, are looking forward to being a part of the Army Air Corps." 

Connor laughed heartily. "Is that so, McCawley?" 

Rafe nodded. So did Danny. 

Connor was tempted to smile at their unassuming pride, but checked himself. "Very good, then." He reached into his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. Handing it to Rafe, he said, "This is the room allocation. You two are sharing 7-A. Since you're early you are not expected to help in the airfield, but you are free to wander about. Keep in mind, though, that by December 5th you are expected to report PROMPTLY at 0630 hours to Hangar Three for training. You got that, McCawley and Walker?" 

"Yes sir," said Rafe. 

"Yes sir," Danny echoed. 

"Very well. Dismissed." 

Rafe and Danny saluted and made their way out. Captain Connor permitted himself a small smile and a nod. Experience gave him a gut feeling now that those two would be outstanding in time to come. 

*** 

Danny flopped down on his bed and looked across at Rafe, who was gazing about him with wide open eyes. "Ain't this great, Danny?" he asked, almost like an enthusiastic child in that moment. Actually, Danny reflected, that was all they were...enthusiastic children who loved to fly. 

Danny got up and started unpacking methodically. "Sure is, Rafe." 

Rafe had never been one for orderliness. Ignoring his bag, he examined the room plan he had been given. "Look here, Danny, it says Anthony's in 5-A. That's just down the corridor. And our room neighbours in 7-B are called William Jackson and Red Winkle." He walked over to the door and opened it. There was no one in the adjoining 7-B. "Not here yet," he announced. 

Danny, done with his unpacking, pointed to Rafe's bag. "Rafe, are you planning to touch that?" 

Rafe gave his bag a sidelong glance. "That? My bag? Oh Danny, there's a whole big field to explore. Who wants to sit in here and empty out bags?" 

Danny sighed. Rafe had always made it a point to protect him, as he was younger, but sometimes he felt a little like Rafe's caretaker himself. Smiling a little he recalled the episode when Rafe had insisted that Danny make him wings out of cardboard, and Danny had tried to make him see sense. Needless to say his efforts had been futile. He threw up his hands. "Okay, Rafe, let's go. Where do we start?" 

Rafe pulled Danny out to the corridor where there was a large map of the field on the wall. He jabbed a finger at a spot on the map. "Hangar One. We start there. That's probably where they keep all the best P-40s. Betcha anything they're gonna train us with the old and tired ones." 

*** 

_December 5 1937_

"What did I tell ya?" Rafe whispered to Danny. 

It was their first day of cadet school, and Danny had to admit that the P-40s they were looking at seemed somewhat less spiffy than the ones they had seem in Hangar One some days ago. If he hadn't known better he would have thought them to be un-flightworthy. With a little dusting off, they could probably fly all right, but definitely not as well as the brand new ones that were used by the more senior pilots. 

Captain Connor stood before them, tall and commanding, but to the row of young and eager cadets he was not intimidating. Most of them had only one thing on their mind — flying. Danny himself was no exception. His hands were itching to grip a joystick. 

"Good morning, cadets," Connor began. 

"Good morning, sir," they said in reply. 

"I see you are all dressed and ready," Connor said in approval. Danny's eyes darted down at his new uniform. To others, it might have been exhilarating, frightening, even unbelievable, that they were actually wearing the uniform of the Army Air Corps. But Danny felt perfectly at ease. He could have been born to wear this uniform. _Probably was,_ he thought. 

Connor's voice jolted him out of this pondering. "This is the United States Army Air Corps, gentlemen," said Connor, sounding deadly serious. "Playtime's over. This is for real now. You are going to learn to fly, and you will learn it well, or not at all. Do you understand me?" 

"Yes, sir!" they chorused. 

Connor rubbed his hands together and nodded. "Good, then. Let's get started. First of all, those of you who have flown before, raise your hands." 

Only two hands went up. Rafe's — and Danny's. They looked at each other and smiled. 

If Connor was impressed he showed no sign of it. He stepped forward and stood in front of Danny. "Walker, is it?" 

"Yes, sir," said Danny curiously. 

"You say you have flown before?" 

Danny nodded. 

"Good. Now, tell me what a pilot ought to do first before starting a flight." 

Danny relaxed. He knew that like the back of his hand. "Check the plane for fuel, and mechanical problems. Make sure there is enough room for takeoff and clear the runway of objects — " 

Connor was nodding. He held up a hand. "That will do, Walker. Now, McCawley, how many times have you flown before?" 

"I don't know, sir," said Rafe. "Too many for me to remember." 

Now Connor looked slightly impressed. Danny grinned inwardly. "Do you agree with Walker's instructions, McCawley?" asked Connor. 

"Absolutely, sir." 

Connor stepped backward and looked at Rafe and Danny with some satisfaction. Then his gaze spread to the other pilots, some of whom were staring at Rafe and Danny with awe and admiration. "You heard them, men. By the end of this lesson, I expect you to know all that, plus whatever else Walker was going to say before I cut him off." He nodded to the various other training officers behind him. "These officers here will be in charge of your training. Disperse." 

The row scattered as the pilots milled towards the training officers, who were heading for an open field behind the hangar and ordering them to follow. Danny was about to go when he was halted by Captain Connor's voice. "By the way, McCawley and Walker — is everyone in Tennessee like you two?" 

Rafe shook his head. "No, sir. Not likely." 

Connor nodded. "Good," he said. Then he smiled suddenly, a rare smile. "I don't think I could deal with a whole uprising of Tennessee boys like you, threatening to steal my job on the first day of cadet school." 

Rafe smiled as well. So did Danny. "Thank you, sir," they both said. 

Connor's smile disappeared, and the businesslike mien returned. He gestured towards the fading crowd. "Get to work, boys." 

They saluted and ran to catch up with the others. Danny allowed himself to celebrate inside. His first impression hadn't been wrong. This was indeed one place where he belonged, and he had known it all along. 

*** 

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed — you know who you are! And thank you now for reading. I hope you enjoyed Chapter Two as much as I did. Once more do forgive any errors and tell me if you find them. I made up a whole lot of stuff in this chapter - hope you all don't mind! Remember to review! 


	3. Friends to the End

**The Dreams We Left Behind**

Chapter Three - Friends to the End 

As the seasons changed and their time in cadet school grew longer, Rafe and Danny got to know the other pilots better. They were a motley bunch, from many different places, but their passion for flying bound them together. 

True to their first impression, Anthony was cocksure, outgoing, and had an attitude that years of living in New York had honed to a razor edge. He had taken Billy under his wing, and Danny privately thought that although it was an odd pairing, they suited each other well. Billy — or William — was a country boy from the state of Kansas, and he was sweet, gentle, and always happy. His agreeable character brought out the softer side of Anthony. Amongst their crowd, the called him "Billy The Kid". Billy never seemed to take offense. He was that kind of man. And then there was Red, who stuttered terribly whenever he was nervous or excited. Nevertheless he had a good sense of humour and was fun to be around. 

From Day One Rafe and Danny had already been unofficially recognized as the hotshots of their unit, and the pair had proven it beyond doubt. It was obvious to all their compatriots that they knew more and flew better than any of them. Still — and Danny was thankful for this — nobody held it against them. In the Army, everyone was equal as long as they wore the same uniform. That was part of what Danny loved about being in it. He didn't have to prove himself in order to belong, like he had had to do back in school in Tennessee when his classmates had laughed at him for having a drunken old man for a father, and he had given a particularly nasty boy a bloody nose and a black eye. 

But this was no time for unhappy memories. It was a time to be joyful for his blessings. 

"Walker, your turn." 

Danny looked up at the sound of Captain Connor's voice. He was conducting one of his occasional progress checks on the cadets. Danny had noticed that most of the time, the most nervous people during these checks were the training officers themselves. Danny for one was not nervous. One flight was much like another, whether or not it was performed for a captain or a lieutenant or just for fun. 

Today they were practising shooting, having spent the past few months mastering mechanical knowledge, takeoff and landing. That was all old hat to Danny. But shooting...shooting was different and exciting. It was with these thoughts that he climbed into his plane and fastened on his helmet. He looked out, saw Rafe, and gave him a thumbs up. Rafe smiled and returned it. 

The flag flashed in front of him, and Danny guided the plane down the runway and into the air, in a procedure he could have done in his sleep. Now comes the fun part, he thought. He looked down, and examined the layout of the ground below. His first target was coming up, a large disc with #1 inked boldly on it. Danny took careful aim, and fired. 

There was a small explosive sound, and the target lay ripped to pieces. Danny grinned to himself. "Not bad, Walker," he murmured. Continuing on, he did the same, gunning down the other targets with methodical precision. Then he turned the plane around and landed it where they had started, hopping out of the cockpit and removing his helmet with a smile. 

Captain Connor walked up to him and shook his hand. "Well done, Walker. Well done. Not as — spontaneous — as McCawley, shall we say, but excellent nevertheless." 

Danny wanted to laugh at the mention of Rafe's flight, but he held it in. There was no denying that Rafe had a talent for flying, but he was sometimes overly — spontaneous, as Connor had put it. While Danny had shot down the targets in order, Rafe had shot them down randomly, sometimes doubling back and doing stunts in order to get one he had passed over. Danny knew Rafe had done it on purpose. Rafe would never have accidentally missed anything. 

"Thank you, sir." He saluted and ran over to where Rafe was standing. 

"Good flight, Danny," said Rafe, clapping him on the back and smiling.. 

"You too, Rafe," he replied. "You too." 

*** 

"Did it again, you devils!" teased Anthony. 

Rafe, Danny, Billy, Red and Anthony were out at the local bar for a drink. It used to be their custom that whoever got the highest score of the day's training would be treated to a round of beer, but Red, Billy and Anthony had forcibly abolished it, much to Rafe's chagrin. They claimed it was because Rafe and Danny were winning all the time, and Rafe had to admit that that was true. 

"Top two scorers for the day." Anthony shook his head. "I swear, you oughta be our instructors." 

Billy nodded quickly. "You're better than all the guys they send us, anyhow." 

Rafe took a swig from his drink and smiled in amusement. "Don't talk rot, Billy. Danny and I don't have rank. They do." 

Anthony sighed. "You're right. No matter how good you are those goons are gonna continue teaching us. And that's damn unfair, man." 

"Someday, we'll be better than all of them," said Danny. "The five of us, we'll fly like they never seen before." 

"I'll d-d-drink to that!" said Red, and raised his mug. They all took long sips of beer. 

After a pause Billy spoke. "D'you think we'll ever get to fight in a war? A real war?" 

His face had its usual smile on it as he said those words, but Rafe knew he was serious. Billy took almost everything seriously, which was part of his countrylike charm. He shrugged. "Hard to say." 

"I've been hearing things about trouble brewing in Europe. But nothing's happened yet," Danny said. 

Anthony waved his hand negligently. "Nothing's gonna happen. The Great War ended just some decades ago. Nothing could happen!" 

Billy frowned, a rare expression for him. "I hope you're right." 

Anthony patted Billy on the shoulder. "I'm always right, numbnuts," he drawled. 

Rafe couldn't help laughing at this little exchange. His own feelings about war were mixed. Part of him didn't want trouble...the other part wanted to experience real fighting. Still, what Anthony had said made sense. His parents' generation had lived through The War To End All Wars. How could there possibly be another one so soon? 

"Why're we talkin' about war anyway?" he asked. 

"Billy started it," said Red. 

"Don't know what you're all worried about," repeated Anthony. "I'm sayin' again, there won't be a war in our time. And for that, I say, hallelujah!" 

Now they all laughed too. But deep down inside Rafe, something nagged at him. _Call yourself a fighter pilot, Rafe McCawley? Just look at all those men who went down in the Great War._

*** 

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the kind that Danny loved best. It was one of those days when he had nothing to do. It was just him, Rafe and the world. 

He turned and looked over at Rafe, who was awake and gazing at the ceiling. "Rafe!" he whispered. There was just something about the peacefulness of Sunday mornings, that made him unable to raise his voice above that level. 

Rafe looked over and smiled. "Morning, Danny." 

"Something on your mind?" 

"Just thinking. Nothing big. Just wonderin' — Danny?" 

"Yes?" 

"D'you think we're worth as much as the pilots who actually fought in the war?" 

"That's what's eatin' you?" Danny asked. 

"Well, yes..." Rafe trailed off. 

"I don't know, Rafe. I guess we won't know unless we have a war of our own. And that's not likely to happen, is it?" 

"No, I guess not." Rafe said. "You heard Anthony." 

"So don't think about it," said Danny. 

They lay in silence for a while more. Then Rafe spoke again. "Got paper handy, Danny?" 

Danny sat up and rummaged around in his bedside drawers. "You're in luck, Rafe," he murmured. "Got a pen too. Why?" 

"Write me a letter, would you?" 

"Letter...no problem," Danny said. He enjoyed writing letters for Rafe, because it reminded him of home and revived those old memories. He himself had no letters to write, so he had to do it through Rafe. "Who's it to?" 

To my sister Ellie. Tell her I'm fine — and that I'm topping the class — " 

Danny raised his eyebrows. "You're writing a letter to Ellie, you haven't seen her in months, and the first thing you say to her is that you're topping the class? Shouldn't you say something like how are you?" 

"Fine, then. Here goes: 'Hi Ellie, how are you? I hope you're doing fine. How are Mom and Dad and Jerry? I'm getting on well over here. Your big brother's topping the class and all, and Danny's second. We've met so many great people here from all over the country. Everyone's been really nice to us. Plus New Jersey's fantastic. There's this one bar I like to go to, and they have the best beer.' " 

"This, in a letter to your ten-year-old sister?" Danny asked incredulously. 

"She knows how I am," Rafe waved a hand at Danny. "Write it. And say that I miss them very much." The last part came out almost inaudibly. Danny, who never had much of a family to miss, nevertheless felt Rafe's sadness of separation. He scribbled hastily, then turned back to Rafe. "Anything else?" 

"Yeah," Rafe smiled. " 'Danny's having fun over here. I've never seen him look so happy. He's been the best best friend, like always.' " 

Danny looked up and laughed. "You know I hate writing stuff about myself that reads like that." 

"Write it, Danny!" Rafe insisted, unwavering. "It's my letter." 

Danny obediently wrote it down. Then he glanced up again, and grinned suddenly, a boyish, happy grin. "Thanks." 

Rafe merely nodded. No other words were necessary. 

*** 

Author's Note: Hope you like it so far. I'm trying to show the depth of Rafe and Danny's friendship. Anyway, thank you to my wonderful reviewers for your encouragement, and thank you to you now for reading. Please, please, don't forget to review! 


	4. Promotion and Promises

**The Dreams We Left Behind**

Chapter Four - Promotion and Promises 

_November 28 1938_

Over the carelessly scattered clouds, in the blue sky, soared a squadron of P-40s in an immaculate V-shaped formation. Rafe was in the lead plane, and Danny, as usual, was at his wing, to the right. 

From the ground, through a pair of binoculars, watched Captain Connor. The pair of Tennessee boys had exceeded his wildest expectations. How anyone could be so blessed with natural talent was beyond him. It constituted an unfair advantage, surely. But as long as Rafe and Danny kept up their excellent showing and continued working for the U.S. Army Air Corps, Connor was not about to complain about them. 

He stood back and observed as the planes came in and landed. All were in...no, two were missing. Exasperated, Connor raised his binoculars to his eyes again and scanned the sky. Sure enough, two planes remained ungrounded. He flicked on his radio. 

"Look," he said. "Whoever you are in those planes, get them down NOW!" 

The unmistakeable voice of Rafe McCawley drifted back over his radio. Although it had faded somewhat, his Tennessee accent was still very much distinguishable. Rafe had an enthusiastic ring to his voice almost all the time. Danny's voice held the same accent, but it was more serious. "This is McCawley, sir, and Danny and I, we're practising some..." Rafe paused, and Danny filled it in. 

"Manoeuvres, sir, we're doing something useful." Danny tried to sound convincing and solemn. 

"I don't care what you're doing!" Connor nearly roared. The pilots around him were watching the scene unfold in amusement. "Come down n — oh God, McCawley, what the hell — " 

Rafe, with tremendous self-control, contained his laughter. He was whirling round in a whole series of inside loops, something he had always enjoyed doing. To a casual observer, it might have looked like an aviation stunt show. To the pilots on the ground, it looked like good entertainment from the best pilot in their unit. To Connor, it looked like a recipe for disaster. But then Connor had always tended to be a worrier, especially when it came to cocky pilots like Rafe. 

Danny, meanwhile, had just done a barrel roll after soaring around a little and was obediently steering the plane to the ground. He landed, and hopped out of the cockpit expecting to hear a tirade from Captain Connor. But to his surprise, Connor seemed not to notice his landing. His binoculars were fixed on Rafe's whirling plane, and his mouth was set in a decidedly irritated expression. 

Rafe, done at last, glided smoothly in to the applause of his watching friends. He jumped out of the plane and saluted Captain Connor, who was heading towards him with a resigned look on his face. "What do you suggest I do with you, McCawley?" he asked with deceptive calm. 

Rafe grinned playfully. "Why, whatever you like, sir." 

Connor's lip curled in a half-smile that made Rafe think he was enjoying this. "Come to my office, McCawley." He turned and fixed his gaze on Danny. "You too, Walker." 

Danny and Rafe exchanged glances. Rafe raised his eyebrows and shot a look at Connor's back that said plainly to Danny, _What's he up to now?_

Danny spread his hands and shrugged. _I don't know, but we can guess._

Wordlessly, they followed Connor. Rafe wasn't sure if this was meant to be funny or serious. He was torn between cracking a joke and maintaining the stony silence. Whatever it was, though, it was the first time he and Danny had entered Captain Connor's office since they first came. He looked at Danny and narrowed his eyes. _This don't look good._

Danny's eyes flicked momentarily to Connor, and he shook his head briefly. _No time for wondering. We better just keep quiet and follow._

Behind them, the other pilots were huddled together, watching Rafe and Danny as they walked behind Connor. They, too, were half-worrying and half-curious. "Poor bastards," Anthony whispered to Billy and Red. 

*** 

Once they stepped into Captain Connor's office, the mask of serenity that had been their captain twisted into a whirlwind of rage and exasperation. 

"What am I gonna do about you two?" he barked. "For the love of God, stop those stunts! Cadets are NOT supposed to do stunts! No, McCawley, not even the very basic inside loop, and no barrel rolls, Walker!" 

Danny kept his eyes fixed on Connor's face. _Maybe we've pushed things too far for once,_ it occurred to him. He didn't say a word. Rafe usually did the talking in situations like this. 

Sure enough, Rafe began speaking in a somewhat serious tone for him. "But, sir, why not?" 

Danny looked over at Rafe with disbelief. _Ten thousand excuses he could make up, and he has to talk back?_

Connor seemed to be struggling between outright amazement and shock. "Why not, McCawley? Why not? Because you're gonna wreck the hell out of my planes and yourself, that's why not! Our — planes — are — not — toys," he said slowly, emphasizing every word, as if he was trying to explain something to a small child. 

"Yes, sir, I understand that, I was trying to — perk the men up, sir." 

Danny almost laughed out loud. _Perk the men up?_

"You see, today was particularly...uh, grueling. Formations are tricky, sir, especially when you're new to them. And maybe you didn't notice, but we were all tired — " 

Connor cut him off. "Okay, okay, McCawley, stop it already. If you're gonna stand here and stuff me with your incredible story for the next hour, I shall dismiss you now. But I want to make one thing very clear. No more stunts, until you are out of cadet school. That would be one year from now. Walker, do you hear me?" 

Danny jumped a little. "Yes, sir," he responded immediately, straightening his spine. 

"Understood, sir," said Rafe, looking relieved that he could stop the bluffing already. 

"And one more thing, McCawley." Connor said suddenly. "If I catch you two at your stunts again while you are still cadets, or if I catch you performing especially dangerous stunts even after promotion — " 

"Yes?" said Rafe expectantly. 

"Save your bullshit for Colonel Doolittle." 

*** 

_December 7 1939_

It had been two full years since Rafe and Danny had bid the McCawleys, and their old life, goodbye at the train station. 

_Goodbye is such a final word,_ Danny often thought. But he was sure that their life as boys who didn't know better was a thing of the past. Danny had no regrets at all. He would sometimes lie in bed, pinch himself, and wonder if this wonderful existence he was leading now was a dream. But it was real. 

"Do you realize, Danny, what this day means to us?" Rafe, next to him, was straightening his tie and glancing at Danny through his reflection in the mirror. They were gathered in the locker room, preparing for their promotion ceremony. All the cadets in their unit were to be promoted to 2nd Lieutenant. It was a day of celebration. 

Rafe didn't wait for Danny to answer. "After today," he said grandly, "Connor's not gonna breathe down my neck for doin' an inside loop anymore." 

"That's all?" asked Danny disbelievingly. "After two long years of cadet school, that's all you got to say?" 

Rafe shook his head, smoothing out his uniform. "You know what, Danny?," he said, serious now. "We've come a long way in two years." 

Danny nodded. "You got that right, Rafe," he said under his breath, twisting his cap on just so. Their eyes met in the mirror, and they smiled at the same time. There was so much to be said now, at the dawn of the biggest moment in their young lives yet, that neither of them knew where to begin. 

"Behave yourself in front of Doolittle, Rafe," Danny reminded Rafe, breaking the silence. 

Rafe laughed. "Yessir, Danny," he said, saluting exaggeratedly. 

They surveyed their reflections in the mirror. "Lookin' good, McCawley," Rafe hummed. 

Danny flicked some strands of hair away from his face, and finally smiled in approval. "I think we're ready, Rafe." 

"Yo, everyone!" Anthony yelled, sticking his head in the door. "Get out to the field in thirty seconds!" 

Rafe patted Danny on the back, almost protectively. "Land of the Free." 

"Home of the Brave," said Danny. 

*** 

Rafe stood, unmoving, a ramrod straight mannequin heading the row of pilots. Next to him was Danny, similarly still. Colonel Doolittle himself, commander of Hayden Field, was standing before them, finishing up his speech. 

"...We must never forget our duty to America, as pilots of the Army Air Corps. Live to serve." He paused for effect, letting his words sink in. "Remember your mission, and you will do well. Once again, gentlemen, my heartiest congratulations on your promotion. May you find a second home in the Army Air Corps, for now, and for always." 

There was a generous smattering of applause. Connor moved towards Doolittle. "May I present to you the graduating cadets, sir." 

Led by Connor, Doolittle walked closer to the row of pilots. Connor strode down the row, and stopped in front of Rafe. Rafe knew his cue. He saluted smartly. "Cadet Rafe McCawley, Sir." 

Doolittle studied him and nodded. "I hear you're first in class, cadet. Well done." He put out a hand. Rafe took it. They shook hands firmly. Doolittle smiled briefly, then moved on to Danny. 

Rafe hardly noticed as Connor and Doolittle progressed down the row. He was too busy daydreaming. In that one handshake with his idol, Colonel Jimmy Doolittle, Rafe had felt his destiny beckon, louder than it had ever done before. _Lieutenant Rafe McCawley,_ he thought to himself, turning it over in his mind. _Sounds good._

His eyes flickered over to the distant hangar, where they kept the shiniest and newest P-40s, only used by the best and most senior pilots. He felt a surge of ambition well up in him. _Someday, Lieutenant, you're gonna be flying those,_ he said to himself. _Someday..._

*** 

The night had long settled in on Hayden Field, but the jubilant new lieutenants were still making merry, with the exception of a few. Danny was one of them. 

Tired out from the wild bash they had had at the local bar, he was sprawled out on his bed with a pen in his hand and his journal before him. Rafe, still exuberant, had not yet returned. Danny however had felt an urge to write. It was the soulful poet in him struggling to free itself. Especially with the stirring of emotions he had experienced today. 

Danny felt overwhelmed. He was dizzy with joy, bubbling with hopes and dreams. The promotion ceremony...it would mark his passing from a cadet to a lieutenant. His passing from a tender young sprout to a man. 

He chewed absently on his pen for a while, then finally set it down to the paper. 

_December 7 1939 _

Today, we had our promotion ceremony. 

I'm not sure where I ought to start. I don't even know what the name is for what I'm feeling. There's pride, in myself, in Rafe, in the Army Air Corps. There's happiness. But it's so much more than just "happiness". It's as if nothing could stop me now. Nothing can stop me now! 

When I was standing in the row of pilots, waiting for Doolittle to shake my hand, I made myself a promise. One day, I'll be like him. I'll be the one to lead and inspire pilots just like myself now. It feels so amazing to have actually shaken hands with Doolittle. The most I can do now, I guess, is to make a difference. But one day, I'll be like him. 

Danny shut his journal and glanced out of the window. The words had flowed from his hand like water. But there was so much to say, he didn't know how to continue. 

Just then Rafe opened the door and came in. He shook his head a few times as if to clear it, and grinned woozily at Danny. "What a party you missed!" he said. 

Danny eyed Rafe with curiosity. From the look of it, Danny would probably have had fun at the party. But, he contemplated, writing it all out in peace had done a lot of good. "There'll be other parties." 

"True," Rafe agreed. He seemed more sober now. Throwing himself down on his bed, he looked over at Danny, who was gazing aimlessly into space, his journal in his hand. "You know something, Danny?" 

"Yeah?" Danny asked. 

"After I shook Doolittle's hand, I looked over at the good P-40s in Hangar One, and I told myself one day I'm gonna fly one of those," Rafe said, the old enthusiasm creeping back into his voice. 

Danny nodded. "Well Rafe, I promised myself that one day I'd be like Doolittle. An inspiration." 

Rafe was silent for a while. Then suddenly, he spoke. "Let's keep our promises." 

Danny smiled. "I will. Promise you will too." 

Rafe reached out, and Danny took his hand. They shook on their promises, in a moment that would go down in their memories for a long time to come. 

*** 

Author's Note: I hoped you liked this! I have no idea how an official promotion thing should go, so I made it up - do forgive! Next chapter will be an epilogue, and the final chapter. Thank you to all my great reviewers! Special note to Sara - I threw in another mention of Nov 28 just for you! Special note to Lindsay — you are welcome to use my fics on your site, just tell me first. Special note to Dauphin - yes the last chapter of HS was a little rushed, but I see you've updated it, so I guess this isn't relevant any more! Sorry the chapters are taking a long time to come out: I've got a ton of schoolwork and major exams coming up. 


	5. A Promise Kept

**The Dreams We Left Behind**

Chapter Five - A Promise Kept 

_Tennessee, 1945_

It had been three years since Danny had left. But Rafe was still having trouble bringing himself to enter Danny's old house. It had been standing, run-down and deserted, since Danny had first left Tennessee. The war had ended only recently. Rafe had been planning to go in and straighten it up, but the mere sight of the old wooden shack gazing at him from outside his window was enough for him to start thinking of Danny, and the happier past they had. Even though they were the best memories in his whole life, they hurt. Evelyn never dared to raise the subject with him. Nor did she consider herself worthy of entering Danny's old house. That was a job for Rafe. 

He walked out of his house and stood, momentarily still, with his eyes trained on Danny's old house. Suddenly something in him stiffened his resolve, and taking a deep breath, he strode purposefully towards his best friend's home. "You gotta do this, Rafe," he murmured to himself. "Go in for Danny." 

As he drew closer and the house grew larger, Rafe slowed his pace. His throat felt dry. There was a churning feeling in his gut. He couldn't walk any faster than he had to. The sight of the house made memories rush back stronger than they ever had. He thought sadly of the time they had mistakenly flown a plane, and how he had hit Danny's father with a plank, calling him a German. There was a slight bitterness in his mouth. All of that was in the past now. He and Danny would never run together in the field again. 

He was at the door now, looking up at the calm and unchanged house that held so much of his past. Closing his eyes, he reached out and pushed open the door before he could back out. It creaked on its hinges. The squeak sounded especially loud in the stillness surrounding him. 

He felt his foot hit something. Looking down, he saw a parcel. He bent down wonderingly and picked it up. 

There was no name on it. The address was correct. Rafe found himself wondering how long the package had been lying neglected, since he was the first person to have approached the house in many, many years. 

Curiosity got the better of him. Holding the mysterious parcel, he entered Danny's house. 

Everything was exactly the way he had left it. There was the same outdated furniture that Cole Walker had salvaged from the junkyard, and a row of tiny toy planes decorating the coffee table. Those had belonged to Danny. 

Rafe choked back the lump in his throat. He went over to the rocking chair, dusted it off, and settled into it. Studying the parcel again, he finally brought his fingers to the string, untied it, and ripped the brown paper apart. 

A thick, plain, leather bound book fell into his lap. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. He knew immediately what he was looking at. It was Danny's journal. 

He opened the journal with some uncertainty. On the first page, Danny had signed his name. _Daniel Walker._ In smaller print near the bottom of the page, he had written: _Please send this journal to the following address if found._ His old address followed. _So that's why they sent it here,_ Rafe realised. 

He turned the page and found himself looking at a hand-drawn picture of two little boys. One was taller, and was wearing an infectiously wide grin. The other was smaller, younger, and also smiling unreservedly. Under the picture, scribbled in crayon, was _Me and Rafe._ It was dated June 5, 1925. 

Rafe found himself laughing quietly despite the painful memories. He turned the page again. Danny had obviously been a conscientious writer. There were pages upon pages filled with neat handwriting. He started to read the first entry, struggling to make out the words. 

_June 5, 1925 _

It's my birthday today. Daddy's not here. I don't know where he's gone. Sometimes I wish I had a normal Daddy like Rafe and all the other boys. But that's okay because I have Rafe for my best friend. He'll remember my birthday. He'll be nice to me. 

A warm feeling settled into Rafe's heart. He turned the page, and continued reading. For a long time, he sat there in the rocking chair, reading more than he had ever read in his life. He was lost in thoughts of the past, as Danny's journal took him on a trip of reminiscences... 

*** 

Rafe had been idly reading on, when suddenly the date on the page caught his attention. His eyes widened in recognition. 

_December 7, 1939._

He remembered that particular day well. Not because December 7 marked Pearl Harbor, but because it was the day they had gotten promoted from cadet to 2nd Lieutenant. It was the day they had shook on a promise. 

_...I made myself a promise. One day, I'll be like him..._

Rafe felt familiar tears gather in his eyes. He looked up from the faded yellow page. A scene replayed itself in his mind's eye. In it, he saw Danny and heard his exact words come to him again. 

"Well Rafe, I promised myself that one day I'd be like Doolittle. An inspiration." 

Rafe's first thought was sadly accusing. _You didn't keep your promise, Danny._

Then he thought some more, and realised that maybe, in his own quiet and unknowing way, Danny had kept his word after all. He had been an inspiration, perhaps not in the way he had meant, but an inspiration nevertheless. 

He closed the journal. He would read the rest at home. Right then, he was feeling an urge to write something back. Which was a rare feeling for Rafe McCawley. 

As if guided by a higher power, Rafe headed out of Danny's house and shut the door silently. He went back to his own house, found a piece of paper and a pen, and ran out to Danny's grave. It was where he always felt the most intense emotion. 

He didn't have to think. The words flowed out so naturally he didn't even worry about spelling. 

_My gift is my song  
And this one's for you  
And you can tell everybody  
That this is your song  
It may be quite simple  
But now that it's done  
Hope you don't mind  
I hope you don't mind  
That I put down in words  
How wonderful life was  
When you were in the world._

He stopped writing. Setting the paper aside, Rafe dug a small deep hole in the dirt with his bare hands. He neatly folded the song he had written for Danny, and placed it gently in the earth before covering it up. 

He sat back and looked at the freshly dug patch of ground beside Danny's grave. Turning his head to look at Danny's marble headstone, he gave a small salute and a warm smile. "This one's for you, Danny," he said softly. 

Behind him, the sun was setting. A small breeze was playing around the leaves at his feet. Rafe took one last, wistful look at Danny's grave, and holding the journal like a treasure, he got up and slowly walked home. 

There were so many dreams they had left behind them. But Rafe felt at peace now. He was a blessed man, he realised, to have even had Danny in his life. 

Danny had more than kept his promise. 

*** 

**Author's Note:**

That's it for this fic...and I don't mind saying this one was one of my favourites. The song that Rafe wrote for Danny was the opening verse of "Your Song", from the movie Moulin Rouge, which I just watched, and I love it! Almost as much as I love Pearl Harbor. "Your Song" is my favourite song from Moulin Rouge. Ewan McGregor can sing so beautifully! I changed the last 2 lines, if you noticed, to fit the situation. Hope nobody minds. 

Anyway, thank you to all my loyal readers...you know who you are, but I'll mention some of you anyway. Thank you to Kitty Kat, Dauphin, Sara and MoronicShrew. And this is a big hello going out to Josh Hartnett's Girl and Kortney, if you're reading! 

And now...I am officially announcing a hiatus. For details read my forum post. Bye all, and thank you to you too for reading. 


End file.
